I walked outside. The lights were out and it was dark. I sat in the dark underneath the trees as the wind blew, I can’t remember anything. I remember you quietly breathing my name inside the loud wind, conjuring deep gods, hoping one would come as me. A circle unseen formed overhead, a peculiar undercurrent, crossing over your evening face, somewhere I am being pulled, up in out. Wet earth. Quietly, scraping at myself, myself that no one sees, I sit beneath bending wild trees, shadows barely known, I’m stuck inside you. It’s loud, and I hear the ones we left behind. I hear them in words like these, folded up secret letters, things that happened that I never told you, a lonely pain unspoken, but they heard, were captivated and came for me with great longing. This night is bright black. Dripping with diamonds made of pure death. Majestic, with me beneath wildly dancing trees and with me beneath you. With me above hiding dark faces, low in the earth, tapping the root of my agony and attraction to this place, this night truly without me. In it. With me inside it, empty and violently held by voices I can’t see or hear. Broken open. Touching me. Seeing me. Just a little frail thing. The outline of a sad something, somebody solid like you, and so I walked outside, still unseen, a memory that won’t go away. Yet felt, feel the wind. My lonely animal sitting quietly inside us. Panting, growling softly so that only you hear. I won’t make any noises. I will quietly obey the force of gravity beating me down, back down into you, not even you, not now, but all the ones and times before. I remember everything, every eclipsing face of god’s recall. These bewitching eyes aren’t even mine, it’s just these voices playing with light, sound like my own voice is only a remnant of their casting seduction. Really, I’m too big for you to see at all. Really you’re too deep for me to ever find. By digging or falling, I know it can never be, unless we retract from the source of the pulling. Me into you. Back. Bending back, my neck soft and afraid, I hear someone coming, like a thick rope with nothing to say. I still want it all. You know what I mean. Someone is coming down from the trees. I could die, hang like the swallowed moon slave. It’s only a memory, less than even a dream. Remember, me not at all from here, not at all hurt by the movement between us, distance, fading, ticking- nothing. Not an illusion of death even. Aligned, under hallowed skies in this moment- thrusting an invisible knife into an invisible open heart. Void, the tiny, only void of me. Rapture, rupture. Total recall. A pile of dirty, ripped open clothes. My ancient maiden dress. Gone. Nobody was ever inside these legs anyway. I’ll take whatever this is, whoever this ghost called love haunts, and I’ll erase our minds free from each other. Bodies, names, ideas, imperfection at large, black trees, hot tears for no reason. Unacceptable situations in which we take because we’re desperate and hate ourselves more than we hate the sound of light’s reminder, the reminder that we’re useless because we’re dying and even still, we can’t see each other enough to remember my name. My last dying touch was of you, looking for me. Searching the sky for a falling red angel who lied about everything she felt. She felt the sky with no words, only dark wind and empty longing. Only pulling and purging. Only a need to be dead. Dead meaning struck by the One who put her there. Dead meaning done because she was finally heard and could stop coming every single white morning to earth’s inevitable daily grave. Maybe I mean answered, but without a formable, final black question. Mark, the mark. It was you. Clearly dawning. Love, a sharp stab, something that has a right to be there. Enter at your own risk, that’s all I know. A gray circle is drawn by a night witch on my chest, I become a star struggling to leave my body. Because of you, I can’t go. And where am I supposed to go? Lie hurting in the darkness of bodies, everything piled on me, me alone like a starving savage mounting a dark heap of what? Or leave a piece of me inside the one who swallows- as if it’s enough, or maybe take my feelings back inside the hole they spill from? Useless suffering, I slowly let go because I’m worn by the pain, become the pain. Not because I’m free from knowing the pain, but because I’m free from knowing anything at all. I look like the pain that fills me, the hurting you put there, spelled out like love, more like unavoidable colliding, numbers that reach themselves and call it sunshine. Equations that were solved by time. Space is cruel. It’s all this sky that no one even notices, the space that does us in, folds us in half without even thinking. Inside this fusion of breath or wind, nature didn’t need to understand a thing. It just works when we get inside the movement, animals are primal and know how to feed themselves. It’s a mystery, I sit waiting to hear you ask my name one more time. We both know the truth, the secret we play, the pain and suffering we lust for. The pain we die to create, become, experience. Thrust from this place into a star world as bright as my final tear before you become everything I made, and I go with only my knowing. We do this again and again. Love, love means pull back together after we fell apart. It’s a desire that cannot be denied, it’s god. Divinity broke and I fell, that’s the hope, that you’ll catch me in the formidable sky, before it’s too late. Before I’m black again. Folded into a lonely closed secret. There is nobody but me and the trees willing to move, the wind violently pushing and I know what I want. Open soul, open sores, open screaming flames of dawn, just until tomorrow comes and then I’ll disappear again into my funnel, a receding life form, just waiting again for a sound that moves me toward you. Into a windy dark night filled with god pain that I can hear and see everywhere, hurting as One. Being One. Two things imagining each other bleeding and living, howling and gasping for space, cruel wicked unseen space. Kill the space. Is the love urge. I know what this is, a torture I made, perfectly- so that we can’t stop creating it. I’m so lonely inside this place and I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Bare bones scraping spines, biting animals, a dream blanket covers me from the cold inside. A dream catcher. Finally. I’m practically everything I haunt. I’m afraid of the needle, drops of blood on this rare open earth. I hear someone calling, me back inside. Wherever I leave I am called from. Come back and finish what you started, but I won’t, don’t, can’t just get naked for no reason. Out in the night, my bright object. You, it’s all over. The space I mean. It’s all over us, spreading itself for no reason. Open up, open me. Crawl in whatever little space is left. Inside, crowded with death wounds and cold shoulders. Wind, my black pain filled sky. Tiny, weak star humming softly at god.
Inside this night, you were the one with soft hands and the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen, you were the one holding no space at all. My entering god, my misunderstood answer,
my perfect flaw, my way out of me, is hurting you, for you, because of you, as you…and I asked for skin and I asked for bones, to see and to touch my pain. Roots too deep for eyes. Pain who hunts alone. And I asked for this world of wombs and swords and it was real. As real as this cutting tongue. Love and guts real. At last. In and out of body and suffering something bright. Love as something else. Moving wildly. Something still alive. Hungry even for this night.
Octagon. Triangle. Doors that don’t open, silver window light, let me out…pushing my shape deep into yours like a virus with a mouth that won’t quit…reaching…
I walked outside and saw her crying through the trees she grew…exactly like that, starving underneath us, love hurts itself with deep abandon, out of existence even…
bright eyes see me darkly stirring 🖤